


Ship It

by ferowyn



Series: Hobbit Kink [19]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Crack, M/M, Thilbo, bagginshield, shippers club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferowyn/pseuds/ferowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thilbo is the One True Paring to rule them all. Even Dain, who has just met Bilbo, falls for Bagginshield immediately. Because.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ship It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4373.html?thread=8702229#t8702229
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes, English is not my mother tongue
> 
> Yes, I know that I should be filling some other prompts. This should have been nothing more than a Minifill. Should should should. Enjoy.

## Ship It

It is the morning after the Battle of Five Armies, and Dain is desperately trying to get rid of his personal healer. “I am completely fine, you stupid dumbass! Leave me alone and look after the wounded! They need your help, other than me, so make yourself useful, and stop bugging me!”

“But- … my Lord-”

“Leave!”

“But- you cannot be well! After what you said-”

Dain rolls his eyes, exasperated. Then he puts on his best dark face and growls: “Leave now and do what you are here for, before I have your job! Or your head, for denying yourpeople the help they so desperately need!” Frightened, the healer takes off and Dain sighs, relieved beyond belief. He allows his body to drop to the furs covering the floor of his tent, immediately reaching for the quill and the stack of parchments he had hurriedly hidden when the healer had entered. “Just because I said that they were cute,” he grumbles. “Can’t dwarven kings think anything adorable without being accused of madness?” Shaking his head he skims the paragraphs he has already written and picks up where he had been interrupted so rudely by that stupid medical.

 

_Grown up dwarves did not cry. Not the females, and the males even less. They were a hardy people and there were not many situations that could draw tears from Mahal’s children. However, losing dear friends and family members before their time was the worst that could happen in a dwarf’s life. Nobody would mock a warrior who was weeping over the death of their beloved. Thorin knew that, but he had been taught to behave like a king and he had spent most of his life being proud and strong and giving his kin hope. Never had he been allowed to show any weakness and it was unthinkable to do so now, even if it was Bilbo’s broken body he was looking at._

_There were tears pooling in his eyes and he fought them back with all the strength he had left after a long, draining battle. He could not let himself go, not now. Not when he had finally reclaimed his kingdom, when his dream had finally come true. He had been waiting for this day for all his life after the attack of Smaug the Terrible, and he had pictured it to be glorious and happy, not leaving him alone and broken. His dream had turned into a nightmare._

_But Thorin was strong, and so he closed the empty eyes of his beloved for the last time and gathered the small body up and in his arms, holding him close and carrying the hobbit into the Mountain. His hobbit. His hobbit, who had left the world of the living. His hobbit, who had made it through a terrible, dangerous quest but had not survived the battle that had followed after they had already had thought themselves successful._

_How was he supposed to rule Erebor if all he would ever see were pale blue-green eyes and a soft smile? Maybe he should give the throne to Fili and spend the rest of his days mourning… but no. He knew that he could not do that. His nephew was not trained to reign a kingdom and until the day his blond heir was ready to take the crown Thorin would not give it to him. For his nephew’s sake, and for the sake of his people._

_He would wait for the day when he could follow his beloved._

_He was still fighting back the tears. Carefully he laid Bilbo onto the floor of Erebor’s throne hall and clung to the cold, still hand which seemed so tiny beneath his own thick fingers. He was gasping for air, unable to breathe and when he took in the way that his hobbit’s chest was no longer rising and falling and the way the blood had stopped rushing from that deep gash in his neck… he thought that maybe he would never be able to breathe again._

 

Dain had tried to write Bilbo’s POV, but it had not worked. He had also had a go at writing a happy courting scenario, however, his fingers had always moved without his permission and the words had turned dark, telling about tears and loss instead. He huffs, chewing at the quill. Obviously happy endings are not exactly his thing. Well, at least reading his stories is a pleasure, even if it is heartbreaking. Being the King of the Iron Mountains he has been taught how to use his words, and he knows his cousin very well. It is not hard for him to let Thorin tell his tales and he is proud to say that the still unconscious King under the Mountain is not the slightest bit Out Of Character.

Very pleased with himself he reads through the short oneshot one last time, correcting the occasional slip of his quill. The story is terribly melodramatic (but he has always been known for being rather histrionic) and – fortunately – nothing more than the excess of his very vivid imagination, but that is exactly what makes writing fanfiction so attractive.

 

 

It is three days later and Dain is currently occupied with writing the heartbreaking last words of a dying Thorin (only a few hours before has he been told by the healers that his cousin would definitely survive, that he would wake up as soon as his wounds were properly healed, and only now does he find himself able to write about the other one dying) and a tearful confession of love when, without any warning, two unexpected visitors enter his tent, both of them grinning widely. He raises his eyebrows and puts parchment and quill away, rises. “Gandalf, Lord Thranduil, what can I do for you?” It is hard to address the elf politely; however, he does not want to provoke just another war.

The wizard’s smile is frighteningly excited. “My dear Lord Dain! We have come here to express our sincere admiration for your work, and to offer you membership in our exquisite society.”

Dain’s eyebrows are attempting to flee from his forehead. “My work? Membership?”

“Oh yes!” Thranduil produces a stack of parchments Dain has already been looking for. “We have read all of those, and we must say – they are extraordinary!”

“How- how did you get hold of them?”

“Well, you see, that is one of the perks of a wizard being a member of our… club. Saruman has cast a spell that conjures every completed Thilbo-fanfiction into his tower. He then sends the works to us and we discuss them in our weekly meetings.” Thranduil’s teeth are shining and his smile most certainly has the potential to make every female in Middle-Earth faint.

Dain, in the meantime, is feeling slightly faint as well. “Thilbo-fanfiction?”

Gandalf rolls his eyes. “Thorin plus Bilbo makes Thilbo. Or Bagginshield, for Oakenshield and Baggins. And we have found that you have written some really outstanding stories for that pairing, thus you must be shipping them as well.”

“Shipping them… yes…” the dwarf mutters, a little overwhelmed. “May I ask for the names of the members of your… club?”

“Of course.” Thranduil’s smile is not wavering for a second. “There is the Lady Galadriel, and Lord Elrond, and, as Gandalf already mentioned, Saruman, as well as Radagast and I believe that Gandalf also offered membership to Thorin’s nephews, I think their names are Fili and Kili? Their stories are very… interesting.” His smile definitely turns into a leer for the blink of an eye.

Dain chokes and has a major a coughing fit. Snickering Gandalf pounds his huge hand against his back. “Now – do you want to become a member as well?”

“What… what would membership include?” the dwarf asks as soon as he is no longer occupied with gasping for air. He cannot deny the fact that he is interested. This surely means that there are others who write fanfiction about Thorin and his little hobbit as well? He would love to read stories written by someone else!

Thranduil’s grin is terribly smug. “Well, you would have to attend the weekly meetings where we discuss the fanfictions we have read, and give out prompts. And you are required to read stories written by other members.”

That cannot be too bad – can it? He takes a deep breath. “Agreed.”

Gandalf shakes his hand. “Marvellous! The next meeting will be the day after tomorrow – would you mind if we met here, in your tent? No? Then it is set.”

Dain opens his mouth to say something, but the wizard has already left and Thranduil is halfway out the door. “Wait! What are prompts?”

The elf turns around, still grinning madly. “We have found something called kink meme. Fans leave prompts there. They can be more or less specific and are supposed to inspire authors to write a particular type of fanfiction or draw some fanart. You will find that Radagast is a very gifted artist and I am sure you will love his drawings of Thorin and Bilbo. But I am running off the topic. There is a collection of prompts stored in Lothlorien, it is called the _Thilbo Kink Meme_. The prompts are submitted by various elves and the five wizards, and the kink meme is open to the public. Anyone can go there, fill a prompt and give his fill to the one who has prompted it. Of course we receive all those fills, due to Saruman’s ingenious spell. But furthermore, in our society we have a tradition of giving prompts to each other. Filling them as best as you can is obligatory.”

“What… what kind of prompts would that be?” Dain asks weakly. This is a little much at a time.

“Well… I guess that everyone will prompting you to write sad, tragic stories, since you really know how to do that. But I won’t tell you more and spoil the surprise.” With that he is gone.

 

 

Dain would never admit it, but he is excited. _Really_ excited. And rather nervous. He has managed to have a huge, round table transported into his tent, and a dozen chairs. After all he does not know whether Gandalf and Thranduil have recruited more members in the meantime. There are some snacks and ale, which Thranduil has sent, and quills for everyone, as well as lots and lots of parchment. He does not exactly know when everyone will be arriving, thus he busies himself with perfecting his newest fanfiction. Only the last word is still missing.

The second the sun has vanished behind the treetops of Mirkwood Thranduil steps into his tent, once again a beaming smile on his face. “This looks absolutely lovely here!”

“Thank you. Please take a seat,” Dain smiles (he _smiles_! At an elf! If his healer could see this he would finally declare him mad and lock him up, away from the world) and motions towards the chairs. He does not get the chance to make small talk, for Fili and Kili are entering next, a strange wizard in their tow. He must be Radagast the Brown, Dain concludes, and tells them to sit down as well. The two princes start snacking immediately, their heads close and whispering about something that has them dissolve into giggles every few seconds. Dain is not sure whether he is curious or does not really want to know. He sighs, but his problem is forgotten when another elf strides into the tent, his eyes sparkling with excitement and the pointed tips of his ears flushed. He brings quite a few bowls with – yuck – green food. Considering the fact that his eyebrows seem to have an independent existence he must be Elrond of Rivendell. Dain smiles – the brows are really fascinating – and introduces himself, but is interrupted by the last three members arriving. Gandalf enters first and immediately sits down, cheerfully muttering something about not being dressed for dinner and starts chewing happily at a leaf of lettuce. Behind him comes Saruman, for a change not looking as if he has eaten something bad, and the last one is a female elf who takes even Dain’s breath. The blonde therefore must be the Lady Galadriel. She is grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear, but with an aura of mystery (how is that even possible?), and takes a seat as well, looking at Saruman expectantly.

The white wizard clears his throat. “I believe we are complete,” he says, “would you mind putting away the spare chairs? In the meantime I will seal the entrance.”

Dain does as instructed and watches the cloth his tent is made of glow blue, fascinated. He sees the same wonder in the princes’ eyes.

“Perfect!” Thranduil is _still_ smiling. He rubs his hands. “Shall we start then? Great. I suggest that we begin by introducing each other. After all we have three rookies amongst us today.”

Gandalf nods. “A very good idea. How about everyone talks about their neighbour? Yes? Then I will start with Thranduil here. As you know he is the King of Mirkwood, and he fell for Thilbo at some point during their stay in his cells. I think he even kept them longer because he wanted to watch them.” Thranduil does not seem to be ashamed in the least. “Those cells also play a very important role in many of his stories. Hmm, what else is there to know? Oh, yes, what he likes to prompt most: genderswap fics. Whether it is Bilbo or Thorin who has to take up with being a woman differs according to his mood. Rule 63! So, Thranduil, your turn.”

The elvish smile has not wavered. “Sitting to my left is Saruman, the white wizard. He has a thing for alpha/omega-settings and, although most would not believe it, there is always some hurt/comfort in his fills. Like most other members of this society he fell for Thilbo during the company’s stay in Rivendell. The club framed there, under the direction of Lord Elrond.”

Dain grins. He has already suspected that everything might have started in Rivendell. The dwarf turns to look at Saruman, who is supposed to talk about Radagast’s preferences now.

The white wizard’s face is blank. “While Radagast isn’t the most dedicated author his fanarts are truly wonderful. He can draw anything you could ever wish for, and he has designed all our posters and fan-shirts. Don’t worry, you will receive yours when this meeting is over. His fanfics are mostly crack; however, reading them is a lot of fun. But if you’re looking for something serious… well. He started to ship Thilbo when he met the company, and he mostly prompts time travel fics.”

Dain looks at Gandalf, for Fili and Kili are sitting next to Radagast and he does not know them yet. The brown wizard chuckles. “Those two here seem to be writing everything together, and whatever we read was mainly smut.” He opens his mouth once more, but closes it again.

Saruman rolls his eyes and mutters something about mushrooms.

Thranduil smiles (!!!) at the two young dwarves. “Why don’t you tell us when you started to ship Bagginshield and what you would like to read?”

The two princes share a mischievous look, and Fili speaks up. “Well, we had this tiny encounter with three mountain trolls. We fought them, but at some point during the battle they grabbed Bilbo and threatened to tear him apart… and Thorin threw away his weapons, in order to protect him. We were kind of lost then.” He grins sheepishly. “Ever since we have been behaving like fangirls whenever one of the two did something that we could interpret feelings into.”

“And…” Kili mutters, blushing slightly, and Dain fights the urge to stick his fingers into his ears. He is not sure he wants to know what they would like to read. “we… well, we were thinking that… a slavefic could be… interesting?”

Gandalf is waggling his eyebrows. “I guess it should come with a lot of lemon and lime?”

The blush only deepens.

“Ohh, I see… they are into S/M.” Saruman’s grin is decidedly lewd.

Thranduil snickers. “I’ll talk about Galadriel,” he offers, since Fili and Kili do not know her. “She’s the Lady of Lothlorien, and she also fell for Thilbo during their stay in Rivendell, while she was attending the White Council. Due to that weird power of hers” Dain holds his breath – was that not a major insult? But nobody makes a move and Thranduil does not stop talking “she has a thing for AUs. She keeps seeing strange worlds and wants to transfer Thorin and Bilbo there. Of course she has to explain those alternate universes to us first, which can be rather lengthy.” There are a few huffs, but Galadriel does not seem to be bothered in the slightest. “And her fills are usually _very_ angsty.”

The blond elf closes her eyes for a second and Dain flinches when he hears her voice in his head. Absent mindedly he notices the princes’ hands rise to their temples. _Do not fret that I skip Dain and tell you about Elrond first. It all began with him seeing Thorin and Bilbo in Rivendell. He will include soul bonds in every one of his fills, and above all he desires reading mpreg._

“mpreg?” Fili interrupts, stumbling on the word.

“malepreg,” Gandalf explains. “Males being pregnant.”

Fili’s and Kili’s eyes light up at the thought of lots of tiny, curly-haired cousins.

“Dain here writes the most terrific and heartbreaking sad endings,” Gandalf continues. “What would you like to prompt and how did you fall for Thilbo?”

Dain clears his throat. “I saw the way Thorin was looking at Bilbo before the battle. Of course, it could also have been a look of friendshi-” he is interrupted by a loud, consistent _”Noooo!”_ He coughs. “Well. I also watched the hobbit sit at Thorin’s bed after the battle.” He blushes. He had not even known Bilbo two days and had already started to ship the pairing. “And I… I think raping would… offer a lot of opportunities? Maybe Bilbo being raped by some Orc?” He shivers. The thought alone is terrible. “And Thorin dealing with it. That is, dealing with the rapist” he knows that his eyes are probably shining as dangerously as the princes’ “and with the hurt Bilbo.”

“That would indeed be interesting,” Saruman says. “Non-con.”

Thranduil already seems to be writing something in his head, judging by the way his lips are moving without a sound and his fingers are twitching.

Elrond nods and his eyebrows are having a party. “Very interesting. However, maybe we should get back to the introduction? Gandalf is the last one left.” He sits up straighter and the brows are suddenly perfectly still. “He was the first Thilbo shipper Middle-Earth has seen, and he can be proud of it. The idea for this club was his, and he had been thinking about it for quite a while before coming to Rivendell. Actually… I think he was already planning to set Thorin and Bilbo up when he chose Bilbo as the fourteenth member of the company.” Gandalf has never looked that innocent. Elrond’s lips are twitching and the eyebrows are back to going wild. “If you want to make him really happy… write a threesome.” Dain chokes and the princes’ eyes are huge, but their grins very lewd. “And no matter what you prompt… he will write it, but there will be some hint of Balin/Dwalin.” Now Fili and Kili are choking as well.

“Balin…” Kili coughs “…and Dwalin?” Fili is gasping for air.

Gandalf’s gaze is dreamy. “Just imagine that love story… full of losses and secrets… and you can’t tell me you haven’t seen the way they are looking at each other."

“Like brothers!” Dain protests. “That would be incest!” He does not miss Fili and Kili flinching and not looking at each other. What in Mahal’s name…

Gandalf shrugs his shoulders. “So what? They are an adorable couple!”

“The way he writes them… yes,” Saruman has to admit. “However, most of us ship Dwalin/Ori instead.”

The dwarven king raises his eyebrows. “You ship different pairings?”

“Well, we are here because of our OTP, Thilbo. Nobody must violate that sacred rule. But everything else… is up to you.”

In a moment of aberration Dain thinks that Radagast and Thranduil would be a very interesting couple (a challenge to write, and he has never shied away from taking up any challenge) but he forces himself to forget the idea immediately. He does not want them to kill him. “So… there is this Thilbo Kink Meme…are there any others as well?”

“No. We are preventing the development of any other RPF kink meme,” Elrond says and all eyes are on Thranduil.

The woodelf blushes heavily. “What??? It’s not my fault that my stupid son has a thing for Bilbo/Bofur! His taste has always been… strange. He’ll probably end up with a dwarf one day ( _how right he is, but Gimli and Legolas have not met yet_ )… not meant as an offence.”

“No offence taken,” Fili snickers. The thought of an elf and a dwarf is indeed strange.

“Well… now that we know each other… it is time to discuss this week’s fanfictions.”

 

 

They spend the next three hours talking about various stories and Dain finds himself blushing when Gandalf reads two of his oneshots out for everyone. However, the colour of his face is nothing compared to the red that darkens the two princes’ cheeks when it is their turn. The dwarf king finds himself unable to look at anyone when Thranduil reads the words Fili and Kili have written, clearly amused by the sudden change in the atmosphere.

It is towards the end of their meeting when Dain finally grabs the story he has been working on the last two days, puts it on the table. “I wrote this for the club,” he grumbles. “The last word is still missing.”

“Very clever,” Gandalf chuckles. “It explains why it has not been conjured to Saruman’s tower yet.”

“Exactly. I shall finish it now.” He takes his quill and writes the last word. _Never_. The second he has done the full stop the parchment is gone.

The white wizard’s eyes are gleaming greedily. “I shall read it when I come home, and then send it to everyone.”

“Great. Now to the last item on our agenda.” Thranduil is – no longer a surprise – smiling. “The prompts. Gandalf has already drawn the lots with that obscure spell he keeps using. Does everyone have their prompts ready?”

Dain looks down at the piece of parchment lying in front of him on the table.

 

_Non-Con Bilbo/Azog_

_Set during the quest. Bilbo is captured by Azog and the pale orc tortures the hobbit, has his way with him. Thorin and the company find Bilbo after a long, exhausting search and Thorin slays the Defiler after a long and gruesome duel, fuelled by his love and worry for Bilbo. Then he tries to help the hobbit, but the hobbit shies away..._

_I want Thorin doing everything he can. Happy ending optional._

 

He is really excited about the fill of his first prompt-

Gandalf interrupts his thoughts. “Radagast’s prompt goes to Galadriel.” He waits until a piece of parchment has changed hands. “Fili and Kili give their prompt to Saruman.” The white wizard’s face is blank although the glance the two princes are sharing is rather unsettling. “Galadriel gives her prompt to me” he takes the folded parchment “and Dain his to Thranduil.” Dain does as instructed. He is not sure whether the obvious delight it the woodelf’s eyes is a good or a bad sign. “Fili and Kili will be filling my prompt, Radagast Thranduil’s and Elrond Saruman’s. Elrond gives his prompt to Dain. As always, they must be filled until the day before we meet next. Saruman will receive all the fills, beta them and send them to the OPs. Have fun!”

His heart is beating way too hard and too fast when Dain carefully unfolds the parchment Elrond has given to him. Nervously he ready the prompt.

 

_mpreg!Bilbo_

_Battle of Five Armies. Thorin pushes Bilbo away because the hobbit stole his Arkenstone. He rushes into battle, Bilbo by his side despite Thorin’s harsh words. What the dwarf king does not know is that Bilbo is with child. The gold sickness only vanishes when the hobbit is grievously injured._

 

He is ridiculously relived when he finishes reading, for there are lots of ideas - plot bunnies, as Thranduil called them - chasing each other in his head, sentences being constructed before he has even started to think about them, and he knows that he will begin to write the moment everyone has left.

Thranduil’s smile is even brighter than before. “Well… I suggest we’ll call it a day.” He seems to be as impatient as Dain.

“I’d say so, too,” Saruman grouches. “We will meet again next week. I will send you the invitation and the details along with the fills to your prompts. May your days be filled with Thorin and Bilbo.” His eyes are twinkling. “And do not forget our most important rule: We _cannot_ let the two of them find out, by no means!”

Everyone nods seriously. Then Elrond hands each of the three dwarves a shirt. There are Thorin and Bilbo, smiling at each other, embroidered into the front, and the ‘couple’ kissing on the back. A moment later there is a lot of hugging (obviously all the members are very close now… it is quite impressive what a little OTP-obsession can do) and the second everyone is gone Dain blows out all the candles but one and sits down, starting to write.

It is already dawning when he finally pens down the last words.

 

_… Thorin took his hand. “Don’t leave,” he begged. Tears were running down his cheeks._

_Bilbo smiled weakly. “I am sorry,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a breeze._

_The King shook his head. How could his hobbit be apologizing if it was him who had done everything wrong? “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should have listened to you. I should have protected you. I should have-”_

_“Shh. Don’t.” The halfling forced a smile. “I love you.”_

_“I love you too.” Thorin was sobbing by now._

_Bilbo blew him a last kiss, then his body grew limp. The King under the Mountain let his head fall to his beloved’s still (and forever) flat belly, crying. He knew that the child had no chance to survive when their bearer was dead, not with them being so young. In the background he heard the cries of victory, but they made him cry only harder, still clutching the hobbit's cold body against his. He had won nothing this day, but lost everything._

 

With tears in his eyes but very happy with his work Dain waits for the parchment too be conjured away and then falls asleep, his head on his arms.

 

 

He does not see Thorin finally waking up, nor does he hear Bilbo’s happy rambling or the King under the Mountain’s soft words. And it is completely his own fault that he misses the kiss – but that is probably a good thing, as well as the couple deciding to keep their relationship a secret.

Everything else would probably have the shippers die with bliss.


End file.
